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Chapter Text

Sam was still getting over his panic when he looked back and caught sight of plumes of dust in the distance behind them. "I thought you said they couldn't handle this terrain!"

"They've been modified!" Quorra said fiercely, eyes narrowing with concentration. "Hold on! I'm going to try and lose them!"

"Hold on to what?" Sam asked incredulously, but it was too late. A few button keys and the bumpy, dangerously fast ride which had started with the kind of jump that would make Evil Knievel cry seemed tame.

They zigged. They zagged. They sped up and hit the breaks and drifted. At one point, Quorra used a steep incline to try and throw off their pursuers and they actually rolled over mid air, and Sam tried not to scream or puke.

It wasn't enough.

Somehow, between one minute and the next, the top half of the vehicle was gone in a shower of scattering pixels and Sam was plucked from the passenger seat and dragged over the front of a lightcycle. The program who'd caught him immediately veered away and let the two remaining figures close in to distract Quorra.

Sam was momentarily frozen by the bright circuitry of the wheel so close to his face before his brain caught up and he lunged forward as best as he could and dug both of his hands into the gritting dirt that made up the off-Grid environment.

Lightcycles weren't as easy to knock off balance as his Ducati would be in this situation, even considering how poorly his weight was distributed, but a moment of uneven pressure as the program tried to steer and drag Sam up at the same time was enough to send Sam tumbling painfully from the cycle to skid over the stony ground.

Head ringing, dust coating his face and the inside of his mouth, Sam couldn't do anything to take advantage of his momentary freedom as he fought to stay conscious. His hearing returned first, and he couldn't make out purr of the lightcycle approaching.

Maybe I did more damage than I thought...go me.

Feeling vaguely triumphant and explicitly bruised...well, everywhere, unless he was cut or scraped up instead, Sam opened his eyes to see the chaotic, teeming sky of the Grid and took a few breaths, then tensed and started to push himself up on his arms.

The only warning he had of attack was the sound of rocks striking. He barely had time to look up -- it's that guy, I'm so fucked -- before the black-and-red figure blotted out the sky in an impossible tumbling arc, mid-air, that ended with him slamming Sam back into the ground, glowing red disc once more at Sam's throat.

Pain spiked though Sam and his vision went blurry and dim. He might have moaned but he couldn't tell if it was out loud or merely one constant denial of his situation. He tried to regulate his breaths, concentrating on that to push back the darkness encroaching on his vision.

Awareness returned after a moment and he could hear the strange gurgling purr from Clu's office. The Identity Disc was a threatening hum a hair away from his throat, and Sam couldn't see anything in the helmet of the program crouched directly over him but his own warped reflection.

"At least let me see your face," he murmured, coughing from the dry dust still coating his throat. The program didn't respond other than to move the disc back far enough that he didn't decapitate Sam on accident, presumably. "Come on...you're gonna kill me -- derez me -- anyway, right? What's the harm?"

There was a long pause and then lines appeared, bisecting and then quartering the helmet without any visible instigation Sam could see, and he watches the face of his killer appear with detached curiosity.

What? he wondered. But. You look like...Alan. The program stared down at him blankly, giving nothing away. Sam couldn't take that kind of wall on Alan's face and his eyes dropped.

"Tron?" he whispered, eyes locked on the red squares forming a T at the base of the program's neck.

Rinzler -- Tron? -- flicked his wrist and Sam flinched, but didn't feel the bite of the disc. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and realized Tron's second disc had been docked with the first.

Tron was still kneeling on his aching ribs, still seemed tense enough to knock Sam's teeth in and call it a day, but he was apparently in no danger of derezzing at the moment.

They stared at each other in silence until Sam couldn't take it any more. "It is you, isn't it? Tron?"

The gray-blue eyes narrowed. Sam didn't have time to register how bad a sign that was before pressure on his throat cut off his oxygen supply. He struggled reflexively, but the program pinned one hand easily. The other was too weak to pry up his grip alone.

Sam stopped struggling, meeting the program's eyes, otherwise unable to promise not to struggle without access to his windpipe. After a minute, the grip relaxed minutely, and Sam shuddered as he gasped air back in. "Sorry, sorry," he gasped, eyes closing tiredly before he forced them back open. "Didn't mean to upset you."

Sam realized immediately how useless it was to apologize to an apparently murderous computer program, but the words were already out of his mouth. The familiar head tilted a hair and the grip at Sam's throat relaxed a little more, before tightening again. It wasn't enough to completely cut off his air supply this time, but it did limit it, and Sam winced automatically in remembrance.

The grip loosened again.

Sam opened his eyes. Rinzler's head tilted another degree. His grip, again, went just tight enough to constrict Sam's breath. Woozy and in pain, Sam let his head fall back to the ground and tried to breathe through it. Let the crazy program play, he thought distantly. I'll die anyway. Who cares if I go strangled or bisected by a laser-Frisbee?

"Users require air."

Sam looked up tiredly, unable to work up even a little frustration with the program. He was obviously crazy, just like the rest of this world and all Sam could feel was a little regret that Alan would have two Flynns disappear on him in exactly the same way. "Yeah, man. We need it to live."

"Users bleed."

Sam looked at him, distantly curious. "Proved that when you kicked my ass around the court, didn't you?" The angle of Rinzler's head shifted a few degrees and Sam could feel his mouth twitch. Breathing was a bit easier now, at least.

Rinzler's head shifted, maybe to examine the line he'd cut into Sam's arm in the Arena, and Sam shrugged as best as he could with Rinzler still kneeling on his chest. "Don't worry about it, man. Heat of the moment, trying to kill me. It's all good."

The weight on his chest shifted, and Sam moaned, tears stinging his eyes as his sorely abused ribs protested the change in pressure until it disappeared. Rinzler was still crouching over him, but he was kneeling beside Sam now, when Sam forced his eyes open again after the pain had faded back to a dull roar.

Sam watched him without moving. The dude was obviously messed up, whether he really was Tron or not, and Sam was tired and aching as he crashed from the constant flow of adrenalin which had begun when he'd been transported to the Grid. Sorry, Alan...wish you would've come with me. You could probably have kept us out of trouble long enough to figure out what happened to dad.

His ambivalence was tested when Rinzler leaned forward and down, angling his face towards the cut and Sam tried to push himself back. "What are--ow!"

Rinzler's arm pinned him almost as easily as his body had, and the pressure along his sternum reminded him of the tumble he'd just taken. "All right," he gasped, moisture seeping from his eyes as he closed them against the pain. "Please stop."

The arm eased up after a moment, and then something cool, soft and wet pressed to his cheek. Sam wearily cracked his eyes open and blinked at Rinzler. They were so close he could count the program's eyelashes.

Rinzler looked almost thoughtful, like the salt-sour taste of Sam's tears was something he'd never even considered before.

Rinzler slowly traced up the tear tract and then over Sam's eye, and he barely got his lids closed in time. "Oh, God, oh, God that is disgusting, you're licking my eye."

Rinzler withdrew after a minute, and Sam cautiously cracked his eyes open, shuddering in disgust when the eyelashes on the one stuck. Rinzler was still uncomfortably close.

He really does look like Alan, Sam thinks, and that earlier realization that he's not going to be going home hits him again. He closes his eyes as his stomach clenches. "I'm sorry, Alan..."

The choppy hum vibrating through Rinzler into Sam sped up then, and Rinzler pulled back, off of his chest entirely with a frown. He didn't notice Sam's attention. Sam licked his lips and carefully got his arms under his sides to push himself up gingerly, eyes on the enforcer.

Rinzler's head snapped back over to him, one hand lifting as though to grab his disc and Sam froze. "I'm just sitting up!" he hissed, and flinched without thinking. The movement jarred bruises he'd acquired at some point, and the ribs he'd at least bruised on his tumble off of the lightcycle.

Rinzler remained taut, ready to cut him down, but didn't undock his disc, and Sam decided that was as much permission as he was going to get. so he carefully tried to sit up without hurting too badly.

"Identify Alan."

Sam blinked. "OK, but..." he licked his lips. "Uh, you're not going to choke me again if I do, are you?" Rinzler tilted his head, eyes narrowing and overall giving Sam the impression that he was in danger of being strangled right now, which should be his primary concern.

"Right, God, no pressure or anything," Sam muttered. "So...you know how programs are supposed to look like their programmers?" Rinzler didn't move. "Yeah...right, OK. Well, Alan is a programmer." Sam swallowed, looking into that familiar face set in such an alien expression. "He's your programmer."

Rinzler was silent, and Sam took a breath and went for it. "He's your creator...Tron."

Rinzler jerked and Sam flinched, but the program seemed to distract himself and pressed his fist instead to his own head. The gurgling was even louder than before. Sam watched wide-eyed as the program grimaced in pain that only seemed to get worse. He had no doubt if he tried to move, Rinzler would be on him again in a heartbeat, and after experiencing this kind of pain, he'd probably just kill Sam so he didn't have to deal with the trouble. "God...what happened to you?"

"System corrupted," the program ground out, glaring blindly in Sam's direction. "Source identified--"

Shit, Sam thought, backpedaling as the program tensed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa--I didn't do anything, or give you anything that could've corrupted you! When would I have had time in the last two hours? Between the weird strip-search and all the beatings I've been taking?"

The program hesitated and Sam stopped scooting back tentatively. "Just...just, why not run a system scan before you do anything you can't undo?" he offered, hoping it made enough sense to work, and that it would buy him enough time while -- he hoped -- Quorra came back for him. "That'll tell you where the, uh, corruption came from. Right?"

Rinzler's hands clenched into fists and he stared at Sam, jaw tense and brow furrowed.

Please work, Sam prayed silently. "Don't you want to be sure?"

"You'll stay," Rinzler said, looming forward over Sam, voice dropping even lower on the register with the force of his words.

Sam licked his lips. "Yeah, of course, man."

The program was a smudge of motion when he lunged. Sam jerked back automatically, but by then he'd been grabbed and wrapped up in the most menacing bear-hug he'd ever experienced in his life, with Rinzler half-holding up his weight. He couldn't get much leverage, and when he tried pushing tentatively on the program's chest, found him immovable. "What now...?" Sam muttered, shifting where he could to ease the pressure from his new and slightly less new bruises.

"$sammflynn will go to standby during scan," Rinzler said, hand closing once more around Sam's throat. He was close enough that Sam could feel the ticking gurgle even as he struggled vainly against his one-armed almost-hug. His vision started fading as the air in his lungs wasn't recycled and his struggles grew weaker until he finally passed out.

Waking up was strange and abrupt. In an instant, he was suddenly aware, and only the newness of the sensation made him realize he'd been asleep. Or unconscious, he thought as his throat throbbed in reminder. His ribs and his arm were members of the chorus shortly as he was shifted, the movement reminding him of the new and slightly-less-new bruises, all aching and inconsistent.

He was pressed against what felt like another man's chest, and movement transferred to him where his arm was pressed tightly into well-defined pecs. On top of that, he could feel a low buzz all around him, in the arms under his shoulders and legs, from the chest he was pressed to. His mind was blessedly blank, but he could still recall echoes of dread, and part of him could already tell that he'd probably freak out about this later.

Sam opened his eyes onto red and black. Rinzler was apparently carrying him back to Clu bridal style, which just...

"I can walk," Sam offered. The arms tightened around him painfully, but Sam was already hurting enough that it didn't hit him too hard. He looked up from the painfully red emblem on Rinzler's chest and met Rinzler's red-tinged eyes. "Let me walk to my death, at least."

Rinzler's hold relaxed incrementally. "You aren't dying this cycle."

Sam blinked. "Oh." He thought about that for a few steps and then decided he was dead either way. "What exactly do you think Clu's going to do to me?"

Rinzler's jaw went tight. "I'm not taking you to Clu."

"You aren't?" Sam asked dubiously, craning his neck. "Not that I'm not pumped, but uh...why not?"

Rinzler looked down at Sam. His jaw was still tight, but that was the only visible reaction. The change of angle lengthened the shadows on his face, distorted the familiar features. "That information is privileged."

Sam couldn't move. The steady motion of walking flexed against Sam's back as his arms swayed with Sam's weight in response to his steps continued rubbing against Sam's arm. The weight of the stare down at him was arresting. Rinzler didn't seem to need to blink, and Sam didn't want to risk it. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something and one wrong move would get him tossed over the edge.

The terrain saved him from eye-strain. A small imperfection, loose rocks under Rinzler's next step, sent him stumbling forward and broke the eye-contact. He automatically tightened his grip on Sam, pulling him close to his chest as he got himself back under control. The tighter grip jostled his arm, tore open the scab and pulled Sam's skin where dried blood had glued the lightsuit down. Sam's vision went dark with the pain all over again.

Sam came to slower, the next time he woke. It actually felt like waking, rather than an abrupt return to consciousness.

"My logs were heavily encrypted, but it wasn't enough to keep me out," Rinzler's voice was the same rumbling growl from before, but shaping the words sharper now.

"O...K?" Sam said, blinking until his blurred, tired vision cleared. He was laid out in a soft patch of what looked like sand. Rinzler was crouched beside a faintly glowing pool of liquid, hands braced on his thighs and clenching rhythmically.

Rinzler turned his head slowly, so slowly his hair barely ruffled where it brushed his temple. "$flynn was the first to make changes to my base code without authorization from my User. Clu was the last."

Sam swallowed. "Ah."

"I'm not Tron." Rinzler reached out and gripped Sam's shoulder. His grip was too strong -- he might bruise over the cut from the Arena. He stared at Sam, grip tightening faintly before he surged forward and tugged Sam toward him. Their faces were close enough for Sam to feel his breath bounce off of Rinzler's mouth.

"I was. But now I don't fight for anyone," Rinzler insisted, voice sharp. His eyes held Sam. "I fight for me."

"OK," Sam breathed, nodding quickly. Rinzler's eyes shifted to his mouth and Sam licked his lips automatically.

The warm-wet slide of his tongue was chased by Rinzler's mouth, sliding faintly in the thin trail of spit Sam had left behind. Sam hummed, startled, but he Rinzler didn't let him pull back.

"He taught us this," Rinzler snarled into Sam's mouth, then took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Wait, Sam thought, who did what-- but his thoughts scattered when Rinzler bit, hard enough to break the skin. Sam shrieked in startled protest and tugged back against his grip automatically. Rinzler let him back, eyes fierce on Sam's face as he lifted a hand to his mouth protectively.

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, the words clumsy as he tried not to purse his injured lip.

"That was how I was taught to kiss a User," Rinzler muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam swallowed. Potential scenarios ran through his mind, and most of them weren't pleasant: if Rinzler was going to take -- could he? Did he have the parts necessary to rape someone? "I don't like that kind of kissing," Sam whispered inanely as his brain tried to wrap around the idea of being possibly raped by a computer program.

Rinzler cocked his head, eyes darting down to Sam's hand covering the wound, and then he reached up and tugged it away to observe the wound he'd made. After a minute, he looked up. "Show me."

That pulled Sam from the confusing whirl of thoughts in his head and he remembered his earlier question of who had taught Tron -- or Rinzler -- to kiss like that, but Rinzler's expression wasn't inviting additional commentary. Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tongue prodding the inside of his lip where it was still seeping blood.

Show me. He wasn't unattractive, Sam told himself. It wouldn't be a hardship if he didn't draw blood or break a bone with every move. He shifted perceptible and Sam swallowed. Time was up, and there was really only one choice to make. "OK, OK," he murmured, holding up his free hand, palm out. "I just...jeez, man, you can't get too upset if I'm slow. I've had a pretty rough night."

Rinzler nodded dismissively, and Sam had another few seconds to be wildly uncertain about the whole thing before he was leaning in again, mouth slanting over Sam's with much less pressure than before, and no teeth.

Sam startled at the feel, the weight sliding over his mouth a surprise even after watching Rinzler close the distance between them. The hole Rinzler had bitten in his lip twinged, and Rinzler started the same suction as before, which seemed like a bad sign. "Wait," Sam mumbled against his mouth. "Let me--"

Rinzler backed off and Sam tilted his head. Tron's hand was still tight on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck over the lightsuit. He pushed his lips against Rinzler's gently, moved his head back and forth. Even that soft pressure twinged, but it was easier to deal with when Sam was in control of the motion. Rinzler's lips were firm against his, and Sam eased his own open, sucking gently.

It was actually kind of nice. Rinzler tasted like copper, or ozone, and his mouth slowly relaxed in response to Sam's continuous pressure. Sam nuzzled his lips again before sliding his tongue out to dip into the crack of his lips and back. He repeated the motion, increasing the force of his mouth against Rinzler's his mouth was soft enough to rest open faintly when Sam let off on the pressure. The next time he pressured forward with his tongue, he kept up with it, sliding between Rinzler's lips easily and shaping the different textures of his teeth and gums.

He forgot about the pain in his lip entirely until he pulled back and saw Rinzler's mouth was faintly bruised and swollen from their kiss and he bit his own lip to curb his response, causing a stab of pain and a rush of saliva.

"I see," Rinzler murmured, voice buzzing in a soft, wet hush of sound over Sam's sensitive mouth.

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

Rinzler leaned forward, tugging Sam's shoulder more gently than he had. Sam automatically slid his hands over Rinzler's hips in response to the approach and found himself cupping two small pinpricks of light, warm against his palms as Rinzler used his technique against him coaxingly.

Rinzler's mouth hummed very faintly against Sam's, and Sam's hands flexed, grip tightening, and he shifted forward without thinking, his leg pressing easily into the space between Rinzler's. I can do this.

Rinzler pulled back and smirked when Sam tried to follow and couldn't move against the grip on his shoulder. "The initial lesson was given in force," Rinzler murmured. "You prefer stealth and subtlety."

Sam frowned curiously, but before he could ask Rinzler what he meant, the program leaned forward and Sam found his hair being gripped as Rinzler pressed his mouth to the side of his throat, then his head was angled to the side and Rinzler shifted his mouth, rubbing his lips over the dip in Sam's neck. His stomach clenched, fear and lust combining as Rinzler's mouth moved over bruises he'd made with his fingers.

"You bend," Rinzler murmured into his neck.

Sam had to strain against his hold to meet his eyes, but he managed it. "What?"

"You bend for me," Rinzler said, pulling back.

I bend? Sam wondered. "You mean...I'm doing what you want?"

Rinzler cocked his head and then nodded once.

Sam laughed softly, shrugging the shoulder Rinzler was still gripping. It was almost a normal laugh. "I don't...I mean, don't get me wrong, you're attractive, but I didn't chose to start...this."

"I know," Rinzler said, eyes hot. "I did."

Sam realized he would probably be horrified by this guy's sexual history. "Right, and I'm...we can do what you want, just...well, what do you want?" He took the time to really look around. The area they were in seemed like a natural oasis, almost. Outcroppings of rock half again as tall as Sam or Rinzler stretched up in staggered lines, sheltering the pool from the digital wind. He could make out a vague glow over the set angling out to the left. The beacon shined in the middle, bright enough to see from any point in the digital world. "Where are we, anyway?"

Rinzler cocked his head. "A natural energy pool a quarter cycle from the Grid." Sam nodded slowly and arched his eyebrows. Rinzler flexed the hand still buried in Sam's hair and Sam shivered as the tips of his fingers dragged over his scalp gently. "I want you."

Sam swallowed. "I got that," he said, mouth quirking. "But what do you want from me, exactly? I don't know how things work here."

Rinzler squeezed his shoulder and then pressed that hand to Sam's lower back, pressed forward, forcing another shudder from him as the pressure pushed Sam's hips forward, rubbing his crotch against the thigh between his legs. "I'll show you."

Sam licked his lips and blew out a breath. "Yeah, OK," he whispered, eyes dropping to Rinzler's mouth. "If I uh, need a minute, can I say...?"

Rinzler settled back and frowned faintly. "What do you mean?"

Sam blinked and then tilted his own head. "I've taken a beating tonight," he said slowly, trying to sound casual. Not accusatory. That would probably go over as well as bath time with Marv, only Rinzler was exponentially more dangerous than his dog.

"Where else are you damaged?"

Sam lowered his hand slowly, and then, eyes on Rinzler, he prodded carefully around the edges of the worst aches around his ribs, feeling for cracks. "I've got bruises all over," he muttered. "Before I got here, I was--well, I guess it doesn't matter what I was doing, really, but I ran into a light-pole pretty hard, and my knees got shredded when I landed -- the arena didn't exactly help with either of those."

Rinzler reached out, obviously about to poke Sam's ribs, and Sam automatically flinched, his own hand spreading wide and tensing protectively. Rinzler stopped and Sam hesitantly looked back up.

Rinzler frowned. "Show me."

Sam tilted his head and shook it helplessly. "Uh...OK? But I don't know how to get out of this thing," he said, tapping the a piece of the chest armor in demonstration.

Rinzler cocked his head and then shrugged, reaching out toward one of the white circles near Sam's shoulders. He traced the edge and then pressed his fist to it. Sam had a disorienting moment of double vision -- or double sensation -- and then that faded, and Rinzler's hand was in direct contact with his skin, smoothing out over his chest and stroking down with his fingers. He brushed the first of the bruises and Sam hissed, eyes closing automatically.

Rinzler paused, then moved up a bit and traced the edge of the reddened, swelling flesh. Sam's eyes opened after a minute, and he relaxed slowly as the touch stayed mostly off the bruises. Finally, his fingers settled over an unbruised section of Sam's torso. "A program would have derezzed if these blows had landed," he murmured, eyes intent on Sam's face.

"I know how to take a punch, I guess." Sam shrugged. Some of them are yours, he thought.

"I will be careful," Rinzler said slowly. "You'll show me your way to engage when your self-repair has finished."

Sam had enough time to think what? before Rinzler reached behind him, plucking his disc free from a port which shouldn't be there if Sam wasn't wearing the armor any more. He watched, confusion growing as Rinzler twisted, releasing Sam's shoulder and stepped back as he reached behind his own back to undock his identity disc.

Sam frowned as he pressed the discs together. The red and white lights both flared, strobing rather than merging as he might've expected them to, in hindsight. After a third flash, the discs separated and Rinzler grabbed Sam's shoulder and levered him around again.

Sam craned his head, looking back as Rinzler realigned the white disc and then Sam felt it click into place. The same shiver of sensation moved through him as it had the first time, but instead of fading away completely, this time it left a hum of...focus, perhaps. Something like that. Sam didn't have the words for it, yet.

Rinzler had redocked his own disc by the time Sam could think past the strange sensation, and he smiled. "We're compatible."

Sam stared at the first honest smile he'd seen on that face and then that focus, that attention expanded at the same time Rinzler's eyes narrowed with intent, and Sam gasped. "That's you?"

Rinzler nodded and settled his free hand over Sam's hip even as his internal presence coaxed Sam's up, rubbing and sparking. Sam moaned, hands flying to Rinzler's arms to steady himself as lightning raced up his spine from the inside out.

Rinzler rubbed Sam's hip. "Pay attention, User."

Sam swallowed thickly, hands clenching around Rinzler's biceps and took a deep breath. "You should definitely call me Sam," he said, and tried to stretch out along the connection Rinzler had somehow forged between their discs, like Rinzler was doing.

Rinzler twitched, circuits flaring with it before he laughed and slid back into Sam's space fully. "You're a fast learner...Sam."

Sam smirked. "Give me another hour and I'll blow your mind."

Chapter Text

Sam woke up belly to the ground, a tease of pressure along his arm and Rinzler's hand tangled in his hair. His head was pillowed on his arm, buried half in the crook of his elbow. The last thing he remembered was twining himself around Rinzler internally, somehow, urging them toward an orgasm unlike any other in Sam's history. He lifted his head enough to talk. "What happened?"

The hand in his hair grew heavier in response and was echoed by a fizzling pulse of sensation that started in the middle of Sam's chest and sparked out. "You fell into hard reset. My override codes were not useful."

Sam yawned and turned his head to the side, jaw cracking as Rinzler's fingers dragged over his scalp. Rinzler 's left leg was folded up and blocked most of the oasis on that side, and his suit was once more fully rezzed; when Sam tilted his head a little further, he could see that at least his helmet was still down.

The sense of him tickling at Sam's spine, muted though it was compared to the earlier inferno of awareness, seemed agitated. It translated to Sam like patches of his skin were itchy from the inside. Maybe he was irritated at not being able to get into Sam's code?

"Your codes are fine, I just don't have...uh, software you're set up to hack." He looked at the program for a moment longer and finally shook his head. "I can't believe I passed out. That's never happened before. You realize you can't tell anyone, right?"

Rinzler didn't even have the decency to blink. "I will not disseminate the information without cause."

"What cause?" Sam asked. Rinzler cocked his head. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence, I gotta say."

Rinzler shrugged. He was braced up on his other hand, his body a black curve in the muted glow of the energy pool. His internal presence surged in small spurts like the energy lapping at the digital sand. The inconsistent pulse of attention was distracting.

"So, what's the plan?"

Rinzler went still, the hand in Sam's hair tight and the fingers of his presence stretching out in Sam's chest sharpening as he looked down at Sam, blue eyes bright even in the gray light of twilight in the Outlands.

Sam swallowed. "You're still on with not taking me to Clu, right?" Rinzler nodded, jaw tensing at the name. Sam hurried on. "Well, I'm guessing we can't stay here. From what Dad told me about...before, someone's bound to come trying to collect energy at some point, right?"

"Yes," Rinzler muttered. His vibration echoed down his arm to the thin skin of Sam's scalp, diluted but perceptible. "I'm monitoring the frequencies to ensure we do not cross paths with any harvests."

That was handy. "OK, good. So, uh..." He wanted to ask about his dad, but he recalled Rinzler's face when he'd described what he found on the change records and figured it wasn't something the program would want to talk about. "We're here now, but where are we going to be later? You going to let me go?"

Sam had an instant's combined reaction of dismay and hope at the thought – freedom was all well and good but he didn't have a clue on surviving here or how to find what had happened to his father, not without help, and Rinzler seemed tolerant of him, if the sex (or whatever it had been) was any indication – before Rinzler jerked his head back, forcing him to scramble to his knees. His ribs twinged and the torn skin of his knees protested even under the lightsuit. "Ah, ah--"

Rinzler bent low, putting them at eye level. “No.”

Sam swallowed and took shallow breaths through his nose as the pain in his ribs surged, and his eyes watered more from the surprise than anything. "OK, OK."

Rinzler's drip eased, and Sam opened his eyes even as he relaxed into a slightly more comfortable position. Rinzler was frowning at him. Or...no, at his mouth. Sam realized he'd clamped down on it while hissing for control and his lower lip was throbbing between his teeth. He winced and let it go. The place where Rinzler had bitten him earlier was open again and warmth was seeping down his chin in a hot trickle. Rinzler looked back up and met Sam's eyes for a minute, his presence pulsing strangely where Sam could feel him: still bright, but somehow more withdrawn than he'd been earlier, touching less of Sam.

Maybe he's sorry? Sam wondered, swallowing a mouthful of copper-tasting spit. "It's OK," he said slowly, hoping he'd gotten it right. "Could you just tell me next time, though? I'm not into pain."

The brightness in his energy dimming, Rinzler looked to the side of Sam's face like he couldn't meet Sam's eyes but couldn't bear to drop his own, either. “Programs don't feel like that. Pain like that. It was...different.”

"Different from what?" Sam asked, passing two fingers tentatively over his chin to make sure he was only bleeding inside of his mouth.

Rinzler's eyes narrowed slightly before he looked back to Sam. “The ache and drag of starvation. The creeping emptiness of rectification. Forced integration is the closest to that, of the pains we know.”

Sam swallowed, hand falling away and catching on Rinzler's arm. He wasn't sure if he should keep it there or not. The program's face was blank, his energy pulsing slowly and shallowly, giving him no cues on how to act. "Integration?"

“When our processes are violently subsumed by the system and chained to the will of another program.”

Sam's eyebrows arched. "That's different from rectification...because the individual program doesn't exist anymore?"

Rinzler nodded eyes hooded. “Yes. And the last moments are spent knowing that you have failed in your sole purpose, the only reason you were created.”

"Sounds harsh."

Rinzler shrugged. "It is what it is." His eyes dipped to Sam's mouth once more, and then to his torso. "But it isn't like that. It isn't...sharp. It's the rage and pain of failure, despair...I did not remember your repair status. I'm...sorry."

Sam tilted his head, brain swirly with a mess of emotions he was too tired and distracted to untangle. "It's fine."

Rinzler cocked his head but didn't say anything else, so Sam couldn't push it. He wasn't sure what he could say about it, anyway. The program had basically kidnapped him, but...it was also kind of a rescue, only not. OK, it was just very confusing, and he couldn't figure out how he felt about anything right now. "So. We're sticking together."

Rinzler nodded. "Yes."

"OK." Sam licked his lips, braced for more pain if he accidentally triggered Rinzler again. "So what are we doing, since we can't stay here?"

Rinzler looked at him for a minute, his head tilted almost curiously. Then he looked forward and Sam realized he was looking at the beacon that had been shining in the sky since he'd gotten there. "There."

Sam blinked. "OK. What is there, exactly?" Rinzler turned sharply to stare at Sam and didn't move for a long minute. "What?"

"Flynn told you nothing useful," Rinzler growled.

Sam's shoulders tensed at the sharp tone and Rinzler stood abruptly, staring down at him from above. Sam had to crane his neck to follow his movement and started to push himself carefully up on one arm, but his neck and shoulders twinged, stopping him.

Rinzler's hands tightened into fists at the edge of Sam's vision, the glow of the circuits along his fingers flickering with the movement to catch his attention as they curled in on either palm. Sam froze and Rinzler made a sound like a cross between a hiss and a growl that had an edge of something foreign in it, a crackling sound that disturbed Sam as the program and turned sharply on his heel to stalk to the edge of the oasis.

Sam stayed still for a moment longer before he finished pushing himself to his feet. His head spun as his ribs and shoulders both protested as he moved, which he'd expected. His thighs trembled and pain throbbed in sections where he'd been kicked or knocked into any one of a hundred things over the last twelve hours. His throat didn't seem too badly off, though it hurt to turn his head. Or move it. It explained why his voice sounded off.

"The light is a beacon," Rinzler said, voice still rougher than it had been a few minutes ago. "The beacon signals that the portal is open and available for use."

"The portal," Sam breathed. "You mean...?"

Rinzler looked back at Sam. "We're leaving."

Sam stared at him for a long minute, his heart high in his throat as he processed Rinzler's tone. "Great."

Rinzler paused for a moment, then nodded and headed around the steep rock wall that had been serving as a windbreak. The oasis was behind the small cliff, sheltered against the rest of the Outlands, but when they rounded it, the plane stretched out between them and the city on one side. When Sam looked back, the Outlands unfurled with more dips further out from the city, the outcroppings slipping naturally into cliffs that grew wide and tall, cutting the line of the horizon.

Sam looked back in front of them and cocked his head. He'd been distracted when he and Quorra had been fleeing the Game Grid earlier, but he was pretty sure they'd been further away by the time Rinzler had caught up. "Did we double back?"

"Yes." Rinzler pressed a hand to his back and pushed, pressing Sam forward.

"I'm moving, I'm moving," Sam said, trying to edge away from the hand. Matching his pace easily, Rinzler looked at him with narrow eyes. Sam tried to look innocent and -- reasonably, he thought -- asked, "Where could I go?"

Rinzler's mouth twitched and he nodded. Sam smiled, satisfied as the pressure at his back grew fainter, then inhaled sharply as Rinzler drew his fingers deliberately up his spine to the base of Sam's dock. It was a strange sensation, being this aware of his back like this. It hadn't been an especially sensitive erogenous zone before this little trip. He wondered if it would carry over when he got out.

If he got out. Sam swallowed and deliberately focused on the city lighting up the sky unlike anything Sam had ever seen before. "Are we going to just sneak in?" he asked. "I mean...does Clu just keep those jets laying around on the outskirts of the city?"

Rinzler snorted. "No. He guards his resources jealously so the resistance doesn't gain access to them. I will be acquiring a surface patch which will provide us some anonymity while we work on getting transport."

"Acquiring?" Sam asked, brow arching. Rinzler drew his hand over his thigh and came up holding a baton. Sam frowned. "Was that there the whole time?"

Rinzler smirked and started jogging forward, fingers twisting the baton. Sam sighed as the lightcycle rezzed, tucking that thought away and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the digital dust he'd kicked up in the air as he waited for the program to circle back for him.

The buzz-and-hum of Rinzler spiked down his spine when the program connected with the bike, but Sam blinked and it was gone, and there was something like static between him and the presence.

Rinzler brought the lightcycle back around and slid to a stop at the perfect angle to throw dust up deliberately away from Sam. Sam recognized the amused, playful tilt of his head and for a minute he missed Alan so fiercely his chest ached. It was strange and stupid: he and Alan actually had a decent relationship, even though Alan was disappointed with some of his choices, but they didn't live in each other's back pockets. Alan hadn't been over to his apartment in months: Sam wasn't accustomed to his daily presence anymore, but here his gut was dropping and a needy, tangled ball writhed in his chest. He really wanted something solid to hold onto.

Rinzler cocked his head, eyes narrowing, and Sam took two deep breaths and let them carry the grief down as he slid onto the cycle behind Rinzler and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Let's go!”

The cycle hummed under them, but Sam was too distracted by trying to settle against Rinzler comfortably without his identity disc getting in the way to pay much attention. After a few minutes' time, Rinzler grabbed one of the hands Sam had pressed into his stomach and tugged him forward firmly.

Sam was balancing with a few inches between them, trying to maintain the distance and follow the flow of the cycle at the same time, focusing on the tension in Rinzler's thighs and the angle of the base of his spine. The sudden tight jerk forward was a complete surprise, and Sam didn't even have time to flinch even as he conceived of the danger.

After a moment, Rinzler's hand loosened around his wrist and he patted it, then left it there to return to the lightcycle's controls. Sam, thankfully uninjured, had to pant for breath against his shoulder as his heart pounded in a delayed reaction to the panic.

~

"Why can't we just grab two jets?" Sam asked quietly, tugging the hood forward on his cloak. He wasn't sure how good the vision was on any programs were, and he'd just been in the middle of a whole hell of a lot of them. He didn't want anyone calling Clu's Sentries on them because Sam was dumb enough to flash his face.

Rinzler was crouched on the small hill they'd retreated to. "You don't know how to fly," he said without looking up from his survey of the city. "D patrol will be shifting attention to the entertainment sector in a micro. We leave then."

Sam had no idea what he was looking at. "Right," he agreed, staring down at the bustling Grid. The security building seemed pretty full. "That's a lot of them, I'm guessing?"

Rinzler shrugged. "A quarter. One of the larger divisions."

That still left...a lot. Sam was feeling better for the energy he'd consumed at the oasis, but he didn't want to throw himself into a no-win fight. "Isn't there an easier way?"

"No," Rinzler said, standing. "We'll wait in the lobby."

Sam swallowed. "Is that, uh...a great plan?" Rinzler cocked his head, then nodded and turned on his heel back toward the hatch which would take them back into the building. Sam felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. That sensation charged the question that had been itching away at the back of his mind since his and Rinzler's match: why did he have blood here, if this was the Grid? But that was something he could ask about later. They had the rest of the Grid to worry about evading right now, although the programs they were currently near didn't seem too concerned about a fugitive manhunt. "The programs were..."

"Interfacing," Rinzler supplied. "Yes. Redistributing energy is a pleasant experience the if proper precautions are taken."

"That wasn't what we did earlier?" Sam asked automatically, deeply curious about this world, before he realized how it would sound.

Rinzler's mouth twitched in a faint but recognizable smirk. "No. We engaged."

Sam figured he was already embarrassed, he might as well address his curiosity. "What's the difference?" Sam felt intent stroke down his spine like a finger starting mid back – at his disc dock? – and fading away an inch or so lower than his waist. "Whoa."

Rinzler ducked his head and knelt to pull the hatch open, and his amused smile was lit by the glow of his emblem. "Interfacing is incidental, engagements are...more."

"Ah. I guess I'm pretty easy, huh?" Somewhat bemused by the turn of events, Sam wondered if he should have held out for the Grid equivalent of a promise ring.

Rinzler waved at Sam and the opening. "In what way?"

Sam shifted and crouched, bracing one hand on the lip of the opening and leaning in to grab the first rung. "Easy...like hackable or something, I guess."

Rinzler grunted. "Your statement is false. Your code is the most complex I've ever encountered," he muttered. "I could barely access the shallow cosmetics. I had better luck impacting you by force in the arena than I would have through any attempt at subterfuge via your code."

Sam sighed, ending on a huff of laughter. "That isn't...OK. Thanks."

Hand over hand, foot over foot. Sam got distracted by the rhythm that the floor jarred him, more solid than he'd planned for. He stumbled back from the access tube and watched Rinzler drop gracefully to the ground.

The air down here was different. It was strange to realize how quickly he'd gotten used to the completely scentless air outside. There hadn't even been a transition between the City and the Outlands that he'd noticed. Here, though, the air sizzled and his teeth ached for the heavy taste of copper and ozone, like lightning in the air.

"Is that energy?" he asked, wincing.

Rinzler took a deep breath and nodded. "Overcharged. Some programs like the feeling when their ability outstrips their processing speed. What you're smelling is energy which has been reprocessed several times."

The shadows at the back here were good for concealment, though Sam wasn't sure why the club needed a Shame corner. There didn't appear to be a program in the building that cared if everyone else could see them.

Of course, that could be because nobody was looking outside of their own encounter. Sam watched a trio of female programs, two warriors and a siren, enter from a hall to the right, the siren tucked under the arm of a warrior with dark hair, pale skin, and an almost familiar up-swept bone structure. The siren slid her palm under the armor, while the third warrior, red hair bound in tight rows to her head, steered them with a hand on each shoulder. Light leaked from under the dark-haired warriors armor and the siren pushed her down. Sam got a good look at the Siren's face as she turned and recognized the dark-skinned program who'd dressed him for the games.

Rinzler gripped his shoulder lightly and slid his fingers lower. It was a normal touch at first, firm pressure and grip, and then it changed, lit him up from the inside out like someone pouring gas on charcoal and at the same time as someone else was lighting it. The intensity and the surprise of it had him stumbling into the wall beside him and Rinzler pressing him forward, holding him there with a hand at his sternum. “Calm down.”

Sam leaned into the wall and panted, knees weak enough for a moment that he was grateful for the heavy weight of Rinzler's palm pressing him back. “What was that?”

“A brief interface to top me off.” Rinzler flexed his fingers and leaned forward to press his mouth close to Sam's ear. “We have to leave soon. If we have time later, I will introduce you to interfacing more fully. We may even have time to engage once more before leaving.”

Sam licked his lips, heart still racing from the sharp rush of pleasure. It hadn't been bad, exactly, but the surprise had made him...something. Uncomfortable, he'd call it for now. “Well...uh. Maybe. Could you ask first next time?”

Rinzler pulled back far enough to meet Sam's eyes in the dim light of the club. The faint blue tinged lights fell across the lower half of his face, highlighting his frown. “The temporary permissions you granted me earlier are still valid. They have not been flushed or revoked.”

Sam squeezed his wrist and tugged it away. “There's still a lot I don't understand. Consider any...permissions, uh...suspended if they're not actively engaged. OK?”

Rinzler withdrew. “Acknowledged.”

Sam hadn't realize his tone had warmed over the course of their interactions until he heard it assume the robotic cadence from their first meeting. “Hey, I didn't mean...” the words sank in Sam's chest. What hadn't he meant, exactly? He didn't want Rinzler to think he blamed him, but...

Stockholm Syndrome? he wondered hysterically, and wished he'd actually attended more than a basic psychology course. Rinzler was waiting, and if nothing else, Sam needed him to help navigate them out of this corrupted Eden. He'd figure out what came next after they'd solved this problem first, which meant he had a practical reason to keep Rinzler happy. “I just don't really like surprises, OK? I'm not upset, I just don't know.”

The chill between them faded as the tension in Rinzler's shoulders eased. “You didn't realize Users could distribute energy in this way. More that Flynn did not explain.”

Sam snorted. “They could write books about the shit my dad didn't tell me about the Grid,” he muttered. “But this isn't something I'm too upset about him keeping aside. I was a kid when he disappeared: he hadn't even talked to me about...uh, how Users...interface.”

Rinzler cocked his head and then shrugged with the air of one who had decided he would never understand Users and shouldn't be bothered over it. “We should be capable of entering the premises through the west corridor if we move now.”

Sam followed him out of the front door, eyes moving to the pillar of light still visible. “Time's running out, huh?”

Rinzler followed his line of sight and then pushed him forward with a firm hand at the small of his back. “Not yet: our time-table has maintained its integrity. If we can continue in this manner, we will have time to spare once we make it to the portal.”

Sam thought he detected a shade of pleasure at the thought, and remembered his offer to introduce him to more program-style sex. “Been a while, huh?”

Rinzler cocked his head. “Since what?”

“Since you interfaced, or engaged, or whatever.” Sam realized as he was speaking that some guys back home would've taken that as an insult and quickly added, “Since you trusted someone, I mean.”

“...yes,” Rinzler admitted. Sam was a little frustrated that he couldn't see his face from the side with the hoods of their cloaks pulled up. “The military transit hub is this way.”

Sam had no choice but to follow him. The west corridor turned out to be a communication hub of some kind, and administration programs mingled with security programs enacting protocols and other programs running what looked like high-tech switch boards.

Rinzler led the way through the labyrinth-like layout without hesitation, and Sam emulated him as best as he could while his stomach was churning with nerves. He followed Rinzler down three more halls, getting progressively more nervous as increasingly, the programs they encountered were sentries rather than admin. Then, as though he'd been signaled, Rinzler turned abruptly on his heel and palmed open a door. Sam stepped into the room at the same time as he processed an approaching cadence of synchronized footsteps.

The door closed behind them, and the lock flashed red once more.

The room they were in seemed to be a distribution hub. There was a terminal with a communication program, who was turning with a frown while one hand reached out to hover over a different part of the console.

Rinzler lowered his hood and stepped forward. “Identify, program.”

The authority in the tone halted the movement, and Sam realized the program had been about to call for backup.

“Designation Array...sir,” the program replied, apparently processing Rinzler's identity and standing to salute. “My apologies, I had no report that we were due for inspection!”

Rinzler locked his arms behind his back in the same stance he'd assumed in Clu's throne room. “Report all large-scale ready transportation capable of moving three or more programs.”

“Sir! We have seven party-class jets permissioned to leave the perimeter as escort and four tanks ready to be transported aboard the Rectifier. We are well on schedule and will be ready to leave on time.”

Sam frowned, his paranoia returning. This whole trip, something had bothered him, and here was another mystery to add to the list he was making. Where were they going? What was the Rectifier? Apparently big enough to hold four tanks. Why did it require an escort?

“Acknowledged,” Rinzler intoned thoughtfully, helmeted head turning slightly to look past the program's shoulder to the window, through which Sam could see several units of programs assembled.

He was focused on the scene outside the window, distracted from the program as he turned a curious – suspicious – look to Sam. Sam forced himself to stand still and stared the program down.

The program broke first, turning sharply and reaching back. Sam surged forward only to find Rinzler was less distracted than he'd appeared. He drove an elbow into the program's face, knocking him further back from the console and stunning him. Sam caught him and dragged him further toward the distant wall, holding his arms.

Rinzler stared at him for a long minute, then nodded. “That will work better.”

“Huh?” Sam looked down and realized his white circuitry had gone the orange-red of the program he was holding. “Whoa!”

Rinzler closed the distance between them and Sam had just a moment to look up as he noticed the movement before he saw Rinzler draw his arm up, disc undocked, and punch it forward. Sam flinched, then stumbled forward without pain as the weight of the body in his arms fell to the floor in a cascade of pixels.

Shock held him still for a moment, crouching on the floor of the communications annex as he stared down at the scattered pixels. What he could see of his circuitry remained a reddish orange. When he finally thought to look up, Rinzler had moved to the console and was reviewing a report, flipping through too quickly for Sam to catch more than a glimpse of the occasional symbol. He looked back down at the loose pixels.

“We should go.”

Sam swallowed, eyes tracing the edge of pixels fallen like a chalk outline on the ground and then a hand was closing on his shoulder. He met the eyes of his distorted reflection in Rinzler's helmet. “That was...”

“A threat,” Rinzler supplied.

Sam ducked his head, gathering from that statement that this was something he'd need to work out on his own later. A person. The games...I...

Rinzler waited for more, but Sam's thoughts were a sea of white noise. Rinzler, at least, seemed to understand that Sam was caught up in something. “Come. There are safer places for this.”

“My apartment,” Sam whispered, and thought of Marv and his apartment. Alan in his apartment, only a short time ago, telling him about an impossible page...

Rinzler set a hand at his back and pushed, knocking Sam from his thoughts at the same time as he moved Sam forward through the open portal back into the once-more empty hallway. I can't...later. I have to be here, now. I'll deal with it later.

“This way,” Rinzler murmured. His hand fell away from Sam's back after a moment, leaving the space it had occupied oddly weighted.